This lovely was created by the wonderful Mandi. Thank you so much.

Betas: The wonderful Megan, Schehrezade and Angelic Amy. Thank you, lovely ladies.

Author Notes: Thank you to all those who have left feedback. It is greatly appreciated.

By the by, I am chuffed to bits that Buyer has been nominated at the Fang Fetish Awards and Vampires Kiss Awards.

Chapter Seven

It was the nagging tingle on the nape of her neck that dragged Buffy from sleep and into instant wakefulness. Vampire. She was half out of bed and grabbing for the stake under her pillow before her mind caught up with her instincts.

Spike.

The vampire in the basement. The one she’d brought back from LA with her yesterday. The one that she needed to call Giles about. Buffy frowned as she recalled the conversation she’d shared with her ever absent Watcher last night. He’d been a bit put out about the amount of money - Council money - she’d spent at the auction; which kinda surprised her. What was a sentient being worth nowadays? She’d never considered it before, but just over a quarter of a million dollars didn’t seem that much to her – she’d seen cars costing more. And then there was the fact that a Slayer was now in possession of the Slayer of Slayers. Seemed to have wigged out some of the fuddy duddies sitting on their assets in safety on the other side of the Atlantic – or Pacific, depending on which way you wanted to look at it.

Giles had spoken of a meeting to discuss… Which was about when she’d zoned out and felt the need to return to Spike. She’d ring him, of course she would. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she wouldn’t have to dash into the shower and wake herself up properly before going down to see if Spike was alright. Buffy froze. ‘Where did that come from? I’m leaping into the day because… I’ve got a vampire to take care of?’ The phone call now totally forgotten, she reviewed the strangeness that was yesterday.

She could physically feel him, a not wholly unpleasant tingle like the lightest of touches just on the back of her neck. The kind of touch that could either have you purring… or scrunching up your neck in protection from the annoyance. It was that borderline. Although her sense of vamps had improved in leaps and bounds over the last few years, Buffy could not remember feeling a signature this strong since…since Spike disappeared.

When she had finished showering and dressing, Buffy made her way downstairs, unsure whether she was looking forward to seeing Spike or not. She felt sorry for him and was vaguely annoyed about that. It was causing all sorts of confusion within her. This was a vampire, a member of the undead who had shown no remorse for any of his deeds. If it wasn’t for the chip, for his inability to fight back, she would have staked him and not given it any more thought than to acknowledge the best dust of her career.

Or not.

This was exactly what was bothering her. Buffy was no longer totally convinced that she would want to dust him – he presented a tenuous link to a past that had grown rosier with distance. When she’d still had family, friends. Before their actions, or hers, tore at the fabric of the world they shared and shredded it to pieces beyond repair. He reminded her of a time when the shit that she’d thought of her life was as nothing compared to the pile of crap it had become. Spike reminded her of better, more innocent times. Times when she thought she knew it all, and could never lose. A bit like Spike. Pride before the fall.

He would hate it if he knew she pitied him, for what his unlife had made of him since they’d last met on the campus in daylight. Spike had always been so full of passion – misdirected maybe, but passion nonetheless. Then again, she wasn’t exactly the life of the party herself nowadays.

Reaching the kitchen, Buffy hesitated before the door leading to the basement. She had already written off training for the day and only intended to grab some very late breakfast, grab Spike and head to the mall. Now she felt a little uncomfortable about barging into what, to all intents and purposes, was the vampire’s bedroom. Pivoting smartly, Buffy opened the door to the fridge, pulling out blood and juice, yoghurt and fruit. Once the mug of blood had been zapped in the microwave she carried it carefully before her, like a shield, as she resolutely opened the basement door and made her way down the stairs.

Two distinctive scents dragged Spike from the best rest he’d had in forever; warm blood and warm Slayer. With a start he sat up in bed taking a second to remember who he was and where. He watched in disbelief as the Slayer crossed the space from the bottom of the stairs to his bed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated on not spilling anything from the mug she carried.

Feeling his gaze on her, Buffy glanced up and smiled slightly into the vampire’s startled, and impossibly blue eyes. Only then did she notice that he was sitting up in bed and that some time since she’d bid him goodnight his tunic had been removed.

Two distinct thoughts struck Buffy simultaneously; Spike had the most gorgeous body that may, or may not, be naked under the covers and - the next made her frown – from what she could see of his chest and shoulders he was still recovering from a beating. Make that a whipping. Buffy was almost sure that the marks liberally marring the pale skin were the result of a whip. The skin was still torn in places, reddened and tender looking. When she flicked her gaze up to his face again it was to find that he’d ducked his head down. He looked…uncomfortable.

One moment she’d looked pleasant, nothing threatening or malicious showing on her face and then she’d frowned, staring down at his body. Spike glanced down to find the cause and became confused. Did the Slayer object to his having taken off his top before he slept? Did the sight of his flesh disgust her? Was she unhappy with him because he was … soiled? A mug of blood appeared in his line of sight. The smell redirected his thoughts towards his hunger. Without conscious thought Spike’s hands wrapped around the warmth of the mug, brushing against the Slayer’s fingers as she relinquished her hold. That was all it took to waken other still slumbering parts.

Buffy was already regretting her promise not to ask questions about the vampire’s past. In her desire to leave him his dignity she’d neatly eliminated Spike as a source of information, disqualified him from telling her how and who had hurt him so much. And most importantly, why?

She’d wanted to start today on a positive note, to build on the calm that had been reached at the end of the previous night, find a way for them to exist comfortably with each other in a house that suddenly seemed too small. Now she was faced with evidence of pain that had been visited on her vampire, the vampire that she was now responsible for. What to do? What to say?

Buffy wondered if it were too soon to pull the ‘I’m a female so I can change my mind’ card and ask Spike about his not-so-healed wounds, deciding instead that it would only make her seem to be far too changeable at this early stage of their fragile relationship. If things were going to work out in her favour then he had to trust her, and she had to be able to trust him as… far as she’d ever be able to trust any of the undead. Her put upon sigh had the effect of bringing Spike’s head up and she found a pair of eyes filled with uncertainty glancing into hers before looking away again. Blinking, Buffy brought forward her patented chirpy smile and set about taking the best care she could of her new partner.

“Sorry, Spike. Got a bit distracted.” Buffy thought that it was always easier to go with the truth, so much less hassle in the long run. “Thought you’d like some breakfast. Don’t get used to it though, mister, this is so not gonna become a habit.”

A nod and muttered “Thanks, Slayer” rewarded her. Buffy left Spike to drink as she retraced her steps to the kitchen and pulled a few items from the First Aid kit, grabbing a small plastic bowl before returning downstairs to the basement. He’d finished his blood and was standing beside the bed with the tunic halfway over his head. With his arms raised even more welts and marks were visible, a weeping tear that had to be painful under his right arm. Buffy swallowed as she crossed to the bathroom, intent on filling the bowl with warm water.

“Leave the top off, Spike,” she called out to him, suddenly nervous about touching his marred, undead flesh. Leaving the bathroom she found the vampire sans top and still. “Sit down and let me get you patched up a bit.”

Spike had hoped for a less confusing beginning to the new day. He could sense the Slayer’s agitation and guessed he must be the source of it, he just didn’t know how or why. Now it appeared that she wanted to minister to the remaining wounds from… It took conscious effort to push those memories away. They did nothing to make him feel better and he was fed up with the way they still popped into his head. Perhaps once the physical reminders were no more he would be able to fasten the unwelcome thoughts into a box and bury them in a hole in the depths of his mind. Obeying the Slayer, Spike sat back down on the bed and waited wordlessly.

Settling next to him, Buffy added a splash of disinfectant to the bowl, watching as the water became cloudy before dipping in a wad of cotton wool and squeezing off the excess fluid. Hesitating to touch the much damaged pale skin before her, Buffy warned, “this will probably sting, but it needs to be cleaned.” Only then did she start to gently and steadily dab and wipe the tears and cuts that littered his chest and back. After a few moments Buffy became lost in her task, focussed on cleaning away dried blood from reopened wounds and tweezing out tiny fragments of lint and metal.

The initial contact with the warm swab had almost drawn a hiss from Spike as the disinfectant burned his inflamed flesh. Not that it was exactly painful, just unexpected. In moments it was forgotten as he lost himself in watching the Slayer, her face clearly showing her concentration as she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Her lips moved now and again, no sound escaping, as if she was indulging in a silent and private conversation with herself. Spike found a small smile tugging at his lips as he considered the irony of the Vampire Slayer being so absorbed in tending to a vampire.

Minutes passed quickly as Buffy diligently stuck to her self-imposed task. She only spoke once. The savage tearing under Spike’s arm could only have been caused by teeth, a vampire’s teeth. For some reason the wound was still seeping a mixture of blood and clear viscous fluid. “Want to tell me how this happened, Spike?”

His body tensed at her words. No part of him wanted to answer her and he damned himself at the sense of betrayal he felt at her question. ‘Didn’t take long for you to change the rules, pet. Knew it was a bit too much to expect, honesty from a human. If that’s the worst of it my luck has taken a huge swing to the better. Christ, it’s all in the file, if the Slayer ever gets in the mood for a little light reading.’ She hadn’t looked up yet, still busy with her ministrations.

Buffy didn’t look up after asking the question. She realised almost as soon as the words left her mouth – which was definitely not connected to her brain right now – that she had broken a promise that was only a few hours old. The sudden tension in the vampire alerted her to the fact that her query had affected him in a not-so-pleasant way. It came as a shock that she had been so wrapped up her labour that she’d actually felt content; comfortable to be sitting in her basement with an injured vampire and to be nursing him in a silence which had felt companionable. Right up until now.

Buffy looked up.

Huge green eyes looked up at the lifeless face of the vampire. Totally lifeless, from the normally expressive eyes downwards. Then Spike blinked and seemed to focus on her in semi-surprise. She watched as he swallowed once and licked his lips before he took a breath and opened his mouth to…

“Spike, I’m sorry. It was out before I could stop it. You know, what with the cleaning of the bloodied wounds, well… I got curious, okay? I mean, I don’t know when this happened to you or…or why it happened. Spike… Spike…” And all at once she was crying, huge gobstopper tears that filled her eye and blurred her sight before spilling over, only to fill again. Her throat tightened painfully and she couldn’t drag in breath passed the lump that seemed to have lodged there, her chest heaving with the effort to bring air to her suddenly burning lungs.

Fighting to calm herself enough to breathe, almost blind with tears, Buffy didn’t see or sense the vampire move. Not until a soft touch was there and gone on her shoulder. Wiping her eyes roughly with the heel of her hand, she took a shuddering breath before moving the bowl and supplies from the bed and scrunching back until she met with the wall. She wanted a little distance from Spike, to not be in his space, to give him room. Besides, it was more comfortable than being perched on the edge.

“Spike, I don’t know how to do this, and it’s scaring the crap out of me. Give me some slaying any day. I can do that. Mostly.” Her voice trailed off to a whisper that her audience had no problem hearing. “But having any vampire, let alone you, here with me? That’s beyond strange. And I don’t know what to do. I didn’t think any of this through properly. I mean, how weird is it for the Vampire Slayer to need a vampire to go on patrol with her, to keep her safe from the few demons that the Initiative have left behind?” Watching the emotions flit over Spike’s face only served to emphasise his total disconnection earlier; Buffy much preferred the animated version before her now. “Get yourself comfortable, Spike. Here comes the Cliff’s Notes description of ‘A Slayer’s Life: the Last Four Years’.”

***

A giggle escaped Ethan’s lips; it had been quite a while since he’d had so much fun. He’d only been at the Council Headquarters for a little over two hours and already he was as immersed in the dark and dirty of the Council’s secrets as a rat in a sewer. Ethan would stake every penny he’d ever had that Giles had no idea of a fraction of what was held in these files. ‘Bet the boring fart has been too busy with genteel reform and democracy to roll his sleeves up and look for the dirt.’ Sometimes Ethan really did despair of Giles; how such an enthusiastic brother-in-arms turned out to be such a blinkered nincompoop, it was beyond him.

The clutter covering the desk had given Ethan more pleasure than he could possibly have expected. Such delicious crumbs of tantalising information… and the damned Initiative thought that their little pet magician would happily retrieve anything and everything for them, give them all the knowledge that they had requested, and been denied. As much as Ethan despised the elitist and pompous Watcher’s Council, he hated and loathed his captors and tormentors of the last few years. The Watcher’s Council had never stooped to putting electrodes on his balls in search of answers to questions he didn’t understand in the first place.

Lifting the phone, Ethan requested a pot of tea from the old battleaxe of an assistant he had charmed earlier. It didn’t surprise him in the least that Giles had failed to pay the ugly old cow any attention, he could see that from her reaction, but her attentiveness to his needs was something to be finely nurtured; one never knew when an oddly shaped tool would come in handy.

Picking up a file from the top of the pile, Ethan entertained himself in the pages detailing a recent purchase of eyebrow raising proportions. Settling into Giles’ leather chair with a sigh of contentment, Janus’s beloved son set about putting his greatest talent to use.

***

The mall was sparsely filled with shoppers when Buffy, Spike and Tara arrived. The blonde Wiccan had called just as Buffy was finishing the application of ointment, gauze and tape to various parts of Spike. It had only taken the sound of the Slayer’s voice for Tara to realise that her friend needed her company and support. The speed with which Buffy had taken her up on her offer to drive them to the mall, and the unmistakeable relief in her voice, had worried Tara until she reached Revello Drive and saw the vampire and slayer together.

Both their faces looked drawn, as if they’d been through some sort of emotional wringer and Tara had wasted no time in looking at their auras. It was difficult to say whose had changed most in the hours since she’d last seen them both. It was as if something had caused a breach in Buffy’s defences, fragmenting the barrier she had built strongly and diligently over the years. Wisps of colour escaped and twirled lazily without direction. Interesting.

Spike’s was perhaps more pronounced. There was something of devotion and affection there which seemed to be reaching out towards Buffy. Whatever had happened between them, however painful it had been – and it only took a look at their faces to know it had been no joyride – it had proved cleansing. More so than the spell last night. Or perhaps that had helped pave the way. Tara determined to speak with Buffy privately as soon as possible.

As soon as they arrived in one of the larger men’s outfitters, Buffy sent Spike off to do his shopping. “And don’t think I won’t be checking your choices before we leave. We are so not taking multiple bags of black back with us!” The small grin Spike favoured her with, and her answering one, served to relax the Slayer as she watched the vampire cross over to a display of tee shirts and start to throw packages into the basket he carried. And that was a sight she never thought to see.

Without words the two women moved to the seats provided near the door and sat down. Tara didn’t have to wait long before Buffy took advantage of their distance from the vampire and brought her up to speed.

“Last night was a bit heavy. Spike thought I was gonna beat him for …” Even now the words were a struggle. “He thought I was trying to trick him into disobeying an order and I had to convince him that I wasn’t doing it on purpose. Seems that everything I should have known really is in that damned manual. Which I still haven’t read, by the way.” Sighing, Buffy wallowed for a moment in the empathy shining from her friend’s eyes. “But we sorta got over that and then Spike had a nightmare or something, so that ended with us having a nightcap. Then this morning I saw him without his top on.” She glanced over to where Spike was now holding up denim jeans against him, a smile touching her lips. “He’s covered in wounds where it looks like he’s been whipped… and bitten.” Tara’s gasp had Buffy patting her hand. “All taken care of now but… well… I wanted to know how it happened and I told Spike I wouldn’t pry and… “ Frantic blinking did nothing to stop errant tears from escaping from her eyes. “Anyway, I told him the abridged edition of my last four years and then suddenly both of us are crying and we’re holding onto each other… and… and… I can barely believe it but we were comforting each other and it just felt right. I felt that he really understood me and he was so upset about mom and…”

“Slayer?”

Neither girl had noticed Spike’s approach. He’d smelt her tears from the other side of the store and they pulled him back to her side. His mind was still digesting everything that had happened since he’d awoken and his body still thrummed with the sensation of having a weeping Slayer cradled in his arms as he’d gently rocked her in an effort to soothe. Every instinct shouted at him to embrace her again, offer her the comfort she had accepted not so long ago, but a public place was probably not best for a vampire to be seen touching his owner in such a way. Some rules were not the Slayer’s to ignore.

Before Buffy could respond, a new voice entered the equation. “Miss Summers?”

Two uniformed police officers stood just inside the store. One had addressed her and the other was looking at Spike critically, as if he found him wanting in some way. Buffy stood and faced the one who had spoken. “I’m Buffy Summers. Is there a problem, officers?” Because if there was she had no idea what it could be.

“Not for,” he pointedly read the time on his watch before continuing, “about another hour and a half. Then you will be in breach of Residential Vampire Registration regulations. You really need to get the paperwork down to the station before then if you want to avoid a hefty fine, Miss Summers.”

“Oh, right.” Buffy just knew that her neglect of that damned manual was going to keep tripping her up until she did her homework. “I’ll make sure that I go to the station right after I leave here. Is that okay?”

“That’ll be fine. I’ll radio in and let them know you’re on you way. Have a nice day, ladies.” With a friendly nod towards Tara and Buffy, the two men left.

Spike had stood stiffly with eyes averted in the presence of the police. He knew how he was expected to act in public, his experience when used as a bodyguard had taught him that. The moment the men left he regarded the flustered Slayer who had a decidedly frustrated look on her face.

Tara could almost read Buffy’s mind. It was clear her friend was torn between the need to share more of her recent experiences with the vampire, completing the much needed kitting out of same vampire and making sure she had the hitherto unknown registration procedure completed on time.

“I can stay here and help Spike get sorted, Buffy, if you want to grab a cab and get that registration thing done,” Tara offered, smiling when the frown lifted from Buffy’s face.

“Could you? Thanks, Tara. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Buffy promised herself that she would bring Spike back for anything that got forgotten – or to exchange gear that she didn’t like. His calm eyes reassured her that the change in plans hadn’t fazed him, but still she asked. “Is that alright with you, Spike? Tara will bring you home after you’ve finished and we’ll catch up then.”

“’S fine, Slayer.” The vampire hid his pleasure at being asked. Even with other things on her mind she thought of him.

Spike longed for some quiet time to go over the early events of the day that lay in a contentedly confused mess just waiting to be picked over and made sense of. Something important had happened, had been said; in between the Slayer’s almost incoherent and hiccupping tale had sat odd and disjointed words, sounding strangely like an apology. Whatever she’d said, he was sure he’d seen her soul shining from her tear drenched and reddened eyes. Her sincerity and anguish, for him, had him giving in to the pull of hope. And that almost scared him as much as it excited him. Such a fragile thing. ‘Bit like the Slayer.’

She was leaving now. A small touch to his arm, a hug for Tara as she handed over a credit card, then she was off. Jogging away in search of transport and… ‘Damn! That bloody manual is still in the chest with… Shit!’ His concern now wasn’t that she would want to use the items to be found in the chest but that sight of them would bring back the upset of earlier. Whips, chains, manacles and items of a far more intimate nature were packed inside the container. Not the sort of thing he wanted her to see, but was helpless to prevent now.

***

Flying into the house and down into the basement, Buffy yanked open the lid to the chest and pulled the manual and file from the top. The control device she picked up with a grimace and shoved into her jacket pocket, determined to find a sensible hiding place for it later. She admitted to herself that she was curious about the other contents of the box, but with a cab waiting outside for her she had no time to get distracted. Unsure if she was wasting an opportunity, what with Spike being out of the house, she resolutely closed the lid and dashed back to her transportation before she allowed herself to be sidetracked.

An hour later she climbed into another cab and made her way home, a sheaf of official papers stuffed into the file and the desk sergeant’s admonition ringing in her ears.

“Don’t forget, Miss Summers, if your vampire puts one foot out of line he’s on a non-return ticket. Any recognised agency will be well within their rights to stake him. That goes for you too, of course. If he causes any problems you have no need to report anything besides the time and date of his demise.”

Having Spike was causing her a lot of extra work – a lot of it of the paper and reading variety. Not to mention the havoc he was causing on the equilibrium of her emotions. But even in such a short time she was glad that he was no longer in the clutches of those who had treated him so poorly.

Glad that he was with her.

***

“Ah, there you are. Hiding won’t do you no good, you know. Willow’s gonna find you,” Willow threatened as she continued her conversation with her laptop. A one-sided conversation that was the best she could come up with whilst waiting for Tara to get back from her unplanned shopping trip with Buffy… and Spike, of all creatures. A minor annoyance at the way Buffy could have Tara dashing to and fro was off put by the interesting, very interesting, snippets of information she had teased out via the internet and some nifty finger tapping on the question of the Initiative.

Not that they were actually called that anymore. The Rehabilitation of Hostile Sub-Terrestrials Agency was the new name under which they were trading – and it had almost put Willow off the scent. The Initiative was still there though, several layers deeper and harder to find than ever. And their new mission statement caused a delicate eyebrow to be raised. Because the technical data Willow had unearthed made her think that it was a huge fib. Why would anyone build in a remote shutoff to the chip? And what was a ‘BL Cont’ element?

“Hmm. More delving needed. Give me your secrets, you nasty government agency.” Fingers flying over the keyboard, Willow made notes on the pad next to her on the table. Her curiosity and tenacity would not allow her to break off until she knew all their dirty little secrets.


A/N: Hope this entertained. Feedback most welcome.